


Where Is My Mind?

by realpoutydadsurvives (collettephinz)



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Car Sex, Chris Redfield deserves to be dicked down good, Hurt/Comfort, Leon s Kennedy is not a bottom, Leon s Kennedy is not a twink, Leon s Kennedy is strong big man, M/M, Mourning, gotta tag that cause some of y'all sensitive smh, high-key pretty hot, imma fight for my right to make Leon f u c k, it's low-key a little sad, let leon s kennedy top, top Leon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 10:41:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19886272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/collettephinz/pseuds/realpoutydadsurvives
Summary: Chris barely even knows his name, even after China. He finds himself mourning the soldier that had been the only person to connect in his thoughts and wonders who on earth could be his POA that the hospital he ditched had mentioned. Then a vaguely familiar blond shows up to interrupt his wallowing and Chris realizes that this man-- Agent Leon S. Kennedy-- knows him a lot better than Chris had originally thought.





	Where Is My Mind?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prrtnrr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prrtnrr/gifts).



> **LEON S KENNEDY CAN TOP AND CHRIS REDFIELD CAN BOTTOM DON'T @ ME**
> 
> me and the lovely Prrtnrr decided to educate today my king made this [lovely art](https://twitter.com/nsfwprrtnrr/status/1152633172498276352) to show y'all just how fucking gorgeous these two men are in every which way fr go give him so fucking love that art is just UGH SO FUCGGING GOOD

_And my bones do break  
And my hands to shake  
As I lie in the wake  
Of time’s cruel slaughter_

The Balkan in Chris’s hand had nothing on the rakija he’d grown addicted to back in Edonia. It was too tasteless, featureless, empty and undefinable through lack of definition. When he’d asked the bartender for the strongest drink he had, Chris hadn’t intended to be given a liquor-version of himself. 

Still— he’d gotten what he’d asked for, right? He’d wanted the strongest shit and he’d been given it. Just like everything else Chris had thought would be good for him, it never turned out to be anything but a mistake. Accepting the call of the soldiers that pledged allegiance to a broken amnesiac drunkard, letting himself be thrown into a war zone with zombies and monsters and only half of his brain intact, attaching himself to the first person to know who he was and losing that person in the same fucking week. 

Chris still didn’t recognize himself when he looked in the mirror, but instead of seeking help, he just avoided the mirrors. Chris Redfield still didn’t feel like his name, like a once perfectly fitted leather glove warped by the rain so it would never fit right again. It was _his name._ Documents and IDs and photos all stated the fact, people looked him in the eye and called him Chris Redfield, but there was something missing. Something about himself that wasn’t there when it should be, something that made him feel like he was missing half of himself. 

But he couldn’t ask anyone. The only man he could have trusted to reveal to that he still wasn’t in one piece was dead, infected and buried beneath the waves, the ache still tugging in Chris’s chest. His hands shook around the glass of Balkan and he told himself he was fine even as he replayed the last thing Piers ever said to him in his ears, the words melding badly with the Pixies playing over the jukebox. He told himself he was fine because he was sure he’d mourned countless lost soldiers in his life, but this was his first genuine memory of it and it _hurt._ Piers Nivans had been so young and strong and loyal even when he was giving Chris the verbal backlash Chris had needed to hear just to get his head on straight. The man had done everything he could and had never left Chris’s side, and Chris _knew_ Piers Nivans had _always_ been that way, Chris just _couldn’t remember it._

It was the gaps that continued that hurt the most. Huge sections just gone, empty and black like a pit. There was easy camaraderie with nameless faces and shadows, memories of pain and fear and suffering that he couldn’t actually revisit, forced into torment by the remnants of the terror and nothing else, no way to explain or work around what he was reliving because he couldn’t remember any of it. How could he face his fears if he couldn’t see them in his mind’s eye? How could he fight something that only partially existed? If he couldn’t remember, was it even real? It felt real, but he would never know for sure. And not knowing scared him. 

It was why he was here. This bar with this alcohol, in Ottawa, Canada, his “home.” He’d been brought here after China, gone through some tests, told he had a clean bill of health and that his designated POA would be here to pick him up and that had—

That was too much, a POA? Someone that wasn’t legal family, but a person Chris had designated as important enough to be his power of attorney in a medical situation? Someone who had legal jurisdiction over Chris’s life, someone with such power that it felt like it had to be more than just practical? Chris knew he had a sister, a Cara or a Chloe, but if that had been who was coming, the doctor would’ve just said sister. Whoever this person was, it was someone who _knew Chris_ and that— if they saw Chris and realized he was lying, that he wasn’t all here, that his memories were still shambles— if they put him in a hospital and kept him caged—

Piers Nivans had _died_ so Chris could keep fighting and Chris couldn’t fight when locked in a padded cell.

So Chris had left. Not even bothered to sign himself out because he hadn’t thought he was admitted in the first place. He’d left the hospital, taken the Jeep in the hospital lot he’d been told was his, and found the first bar he could locate that was seedy enough to have the potent shit he needed to cope with the memories that were nothing more than fog and whispers. Fuck whoever was being sent for him, if he hadn’t met them by now, then they couldn’t be that important. They couldn’t care about him, not that much, not enough. Not like Piers had, not like his fellow soldiers, not like—

“Knew I’d find you here.”

The voice was familiar, but only in the way that a reloading a gun was as easy as breathing to him, and yet if he tried to think about it he’d fuck it up. Chris frowned at the wood of the bar, trying to place the voice, feeling acidic deja vu wash over him, remembering Piers had found him just like this. He wondered if whoever this was would meet the same fate. It seemed like Chris Redfield, whoever he was, had a bad habit of getting the people around him killed.

Chris pulled his eyes from his drink and looked and saw—

It took a moment, but eventually— 

“Leon?”

The blond man gave him a patient smile that looked pleasant on his face and not as insulting as it was when Chris saw it on others these past few days. Leon wore the patient smile like he knew Chris would catch up if he just gave him time, and he was right. “Leon,” Chris said again. “DSO agent.”

“Is that all you know about me?”

The question was innocent and he knew Leon meant no harm in asking, but Chris scowled regardless, letting himself be angry to cover up the fact that he didn’t know anything else. The fog was there, it was unbreakable, and he was terrified of the monsters he’d find if he went in too far. Anger was the only defense he had. 

“Should I?” he demanded, voice harsh. “You’re not BSAA— you’re not family. Why would I know you?” That was something Chris Redfield would say, right? Leon didn’t give anything away, his expression didn’t even shudder, so it probably was pretty on par for him. God, Chris Redfield was a dick, wasn’t he? At least to Leon. The man that had said the first thing to ever make sense to Chris since he fell into China. How could Chris Redfield be a dick to the only person that Chris felt like actually understood the anger he felt? And why was the Chris he was now continuing that awful habit? “Get out of my face,” Chris said before he could think better. The anger was so hard to deny when it was so easy to feel.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Leon told him calmly. “The doctors were a little distressed to find you gone. Did they manage to give you any medication we should be concerned about before you played hooky?”

“ _We?_ ” Chris repeated incredulously. He stood from his stool and rounded on the agent, standing just an inch taller and probably twice as strong. He went chest to chest with Leon, trying to scare him, make him shy away, make him _submit._ “I don’t know who the fuck you think you—”

Chris was cut off as a hand suddenly grabbed him by the front of his shirt and he was yanked forward, stumbling past Leon by Leon’s own tug. The blond pulled a wad of bills from his back pocket and slapped them onto the counter, giving the bar tender a tight smile, and then pulling Chris out of the bar entirely and out into the streets. The cool air hit Chris like a train and he shoved himself away from Leon, sneering. “Who the fuck are you?!”

The question was giving away too much, but Leon ignored it entirely. “Give me the keys,” he told Chris, walking briskly to Chris’s car, not even having to ask which was his. “I’m taking you—”

_“I’m not going back there!”_

Leon stopped suddenly and turned to face Chris, his perfectly-schooled expression finally falling away and showing an emotion: confusion. “Back where?” he asked Chris almost gently. “The hospital? Why don’t you want to go back to the hospital?”

Chris hunched his shoulders to his ears, tried to think quickly, tried to figure a way out of this one, for Piers. He couldn’t honor a dead man’s wish from the nut house. “I don’t like the chemicals,” he lied quickly.

Leon’s expression went flat again. “Wrong answer,” Leon said, like he somehow knew better, like he knew _Chris._ But how could he? He wasn’t BSAA, he wasn’t Chris’s partner, he wasn’t even mentioned by any of his men. If Leon was someone who could act like he knew Chris, how come none of Chris’s family knew Leon?

“Who the fuck are you?” Chris asked again, his voice shaking a little, which he hated. “You don’t— you don’t know me. You’re no one. You’re not BSAA. You’re not my family. You’re not— not my friend.” Someone would’ve said something, _Piers_ would have said something. “You’re no one.”

Leon stared into him. Surrounding them, the streets were quiet and the night was cold. The glow of downtown was just behind Leon and a streetlight reflected off the man’s vibrant blue eyes. He looked— tired. Worn down, exhausted, broken away. He’d been through hell just like Chris had and yet here he was, hunting down a broken man that refused to admit to being broken at all. Who was he? Chris wracked his brain, but was too scared to fight through the fog. _Who was he?_ Chris said it one more time. “You’re no one.”

Leon’s gaze bore holes into Chris’s lungs. “I’m the only person whose name you didn’t have to be told.”

Chris staggered back. Then he stormed forward, fisted his hands in Leon’s pricey, blood-stained shirt, and slammed Leon into the side of his car, baring his teeth, snarling, out for blood himself. “Answer me!” he roared, shoving Leon harshly, watching the man wince as his head knocked on the glass. Leon’s hands came to wrap around Chris’s wrists, but they didn’t try to pull Chris away. If anything, Leon’s compliance to Chris’s abuse only made him angrier. _“Answer me, Kennedy!”_

Something flashed through Leon’s eyes and then the man’s hands weren’t around Chris’s wrists, but wrapping around the back of his neck, holding Chris in place as Leon surged forward and knocked their mouths together like a punch. Teeth clacked and Chris tasted that blood he’d been yearning for as his knees buckled beneath him while Leon held him fast. The world spun, and suddenly Chris was the one pinned to the metal of the car, the structure protesting the brute strength Leon used to slam him into place. The air was forced from Chris’s lungs and he gasped into Leon’s mouth, realizing he was the one submitting after he’d so desperately tried to intimidate Leon into submissiveness only moments before. 

The scariest part about realizing this was also realizing that he wasn’t scared if it was Leon.

“Where are your keys?” Leon growled against his lips. Chris’s brain was a puddle of mush, he couldn’t have answered even if he had his memories in one piece. Leon let out an impatient huff before those hands were suddenly trailing down Chris’s body to go _everywhere_ , groping and touching and fondling and frisking him down in probably the most inappropriate bastardization of the meaning of the word. Chris arched into Leon on an instinct he didn’t understand as Leon squeezed the left side of Chris’s ass and pulled the car fob from the back pocket of the right side. 

The car chirped behind them and Leon was yanking Chris forward, sending him stumbling into Leon’s firm chest as Leon tore open the back passenger door. Then the world was moving again as Leon pushed Chris into the car, grabbing Chris by the hips and— in a stunning display of strength that left Chris’s mouth dry— lifting Chris onto the back bench seat, shoving him down the leather, laying Chris out while Leon climbed in after him and slammed the door shut behind his back. Chris gaped up at the blond, who sent him a crooked grin, those blue eyes darkening. “What’s happening?” Chris asked, his thoughts sluggish. Leon moved between his legs, settling between Chris’s knees, and this— “Are you some kind of prostitute?”

Leon’s face went blank. “… Why the fuck is that what comes to mind?”

Chris’s cheeks flushed and he squirmed beneath those eyes, trying desperately to remember _something._ When nothing came, he had to default— he had to be angry again. “Pretty boy like you probably gets a good buck from this, right?” God, it felt like poison from his throat. He waited for Leon to hit him. The man only looked a little— he looked almost sad.

“You don’t mean that, Chris,” Leon said with such certainty that Chris wanted to get angrier. “Please— whenever you get yourself back, don’t hold the things you say against yourself.”

“How the fuck do you—”

“Do you want this?”

Chris’s irrationality died in the face of the question. It was impossible for him to be confused as to what “this” was in relation to what Leon was asking, but he wasn’t sure why he was asking at all. And not because Chris didn’t think consent was an important element to any sexual or romantic relationship, but just— it almost felt like Leon was a singular exception to the rule for him and he didn’t know why. Something was telling him that Leon— and only Leon— didn’t have to ask him.   
Chris didn’t understand why he felt this way and it pissed him off so he sneered. “Why the fuck do you care?” he spat, sticking with angry, always fucking angry. “You’re no one, Leon.”

“Kennedy.”

Chris’s brow furrowed. “Is Leon not your name?”

“No,” Leon replied. “But earlier, you said my full name.”

Chris’s mouth moved before his thoughts solidified. “Leon S. Kennedy? When did I say that?”

Amazement flashed across Leon’s face and Chris suddenly realized he was able to read this man better than anyone else he’d met so far, even that nice, red-headed doctor who had said she’d known him for years. “Chris,” Leon breathed. “Let me touch you.”

The sneer came back. Even with this man settled between his legs, a gorgeous man that Chris _knew_ was supposed to mean something to him, he couldn’t let the anger go. “Why the fuck would you even want this?” he demanded, letting the hurt sound like fury. “Haven’t you seen the headlines, Kennedy? Everyone who follows me ends up being shipped home in a casket if we’re lucky enough to find the body at all! You really wanna sign your death sentence by getting fucked by me?”

Despite the awful truths Chris had flung into the air between them, Leon smirked and asked, “Who said you were fucking me?”

Chris’s throat closed up. Leon settled between his legs and held to Chris’s hips, pulling their lower halves flushed together, and Chris wouldn’t want some stranger touching him like this under any circumstance, but it was like his flesh and bones knew Leon in a way Chris’s shattered memories couldn’t.

“I know you’re not okay,” Leon said even as Chris’s heart began to hammer in his chest. He could feel Leon’s cock through their jeans and he couldn’t think as the fog in his mind became a haze across water, hot and swimming with light piercing through, like something was fighting to reach the surface for him to see. “I know— losing Piers is hurting you now, but god, Chris, I almost hope you never get your full memory back so you don’t have to remember just who you’ve lost.” The ache in Leon’s eyes had Chris’s stomach twisting with dread. He almost hoped he didn’t remember either. “You’re never been the kind of person to drink your sorrows away,” Leon murmured, splaying a hand out across Chris’s abdomen, his touch warm even through Chris’s thick clothes. “That’s more my song and dance than yours— you need something else to feel better.”

Chris hated to think someone would have this kind of superior knowledge of himself _over_ himself, but at the same time he knew Leon was _right._ He kept drinking and drinking and drinking, hoping the alcohol would fill the emptiness inside because god knew nothing else would. Nothing else numbed the fog, nothing else stopped the shakes, and nothing else drowned out the whispered memories that were just shadows and monsters and nameless faces. He was scared of his own thoughts and the alcohol was what made him fearless. But even then, the alcohol was impermanent, expensive, and muddled his senses, his reactions, his ability to protect himself. And after seeing what his life had been and what his life would always be, inebriation wouldn’t be a vice he could afford to continue. So he looked up at Leon, brow furrowed, forcing that anger away to ask, “What do you think will help?”

Leon held his hips tight and pressed against him, making his intentions clear. “Do you want this?”

Leon—

Leon knew him. Chris knew that beyond a shadow of a doubt. And even though he hated it, Leon probably knew him better than anyone else. If anyone could help him, it was Agent Leon S. Kennedy.

“I think so,” he replied, voice cracking at the end. “I don’t— everything says yes and I don’t now why.” He shuddered beneath Leon’s hand and looked up, brow twisted, imploring. “Help me,” he pleaded. “I don’t know who I am half the time.”

Leon’s hand pressed into his skin and Chris took comfort in the touch. “You’re Chris Redfield,” Leon told him, sounding so fucking sure of it. “Even when you can’t remember— even when you’re scared and lashing out. Even when you don’t recognize the faces that light up at the sight of yours. You’re Chris Redfield and that’s the only person you’ll ever need to be.”

Chris took in a shaky breath. “Do you— do you like Chris Redfield?”

Leon smiled breathlessly and shook his head. “That word doesn’t even come close.” He bended down and stole Chris’s lips for another kiss as the hand left Chris’s hip to open the center console in the front and pull a bottle of something into view. Chris squinted at it, recognized it as the store brand, oil-based lube he would buy for cleaning his gun. He hadn’t known he kept it in the car, but it made sense that Chris Redfield would be paranoid enough to have weapon equipment on him at all times. But why was Leon—

“This isn’t for your gun,” Leon murmured into him. Chris took a second and—

_Oh._

He flushed from his cheeks to his ears to his neck to his chest, the heat spreading even lower still and pooling in his gut. Something inside of him stirred and he let his head drop back into the leather as he realized he was getting hard. That wasn’t new, of course, Chris had technically been consciously alive for six months that he could remember, he’d had quite a few experiences in Edonia. Good looking guy all alone and grieving in a bar, of course he’d turn heads. But he’d never been approached by or gotten hard for another man, and yet— Again, Leon was turning out to be this instinctual exception for his body and Chris was twin parts fascinated and terrified. But then another part of him was insisting he was safe with Leon no matter how scared he felt. And if Chris couldn’t trust himself, then who could he trust at all?

Leon uncapped the lube and the sound was like a gunshot in Chris’s ears. Something must have shown on his face, because the hand on his stomach trailed up to his chest and to his collarbone, those blue eyes piercing Chris and comforting him. “You don’t have to say yes,” Leon told him, that low voice rumbling through Chris. “There are other ways to try and get you back on solid ground. You’re not a captain when you’re with me.” A thumb pressed into Chris’s pulse, the warm skin a contrast to the leather covering the rest of the hand. “You don’t have to be anyone but Chris.”

Somehow, the assurance that Chris was only human with Leon made him more certain he wanted this despite the anxieties in his chest. He scowled up at Leon, trying to be tough and defiant in the face of the placating man. “Get my pants off before I decide to take care of myself.”

Leon raised a fine brow, slick lips parted in gentle surprise. “You really think you know this body better than me?” The hand at his pulse moved up into Chris’s hair. The fingers curled into the short locks and tugged, Chris gasping as electricity shot through him. In contrast, cold air suddenly hit Chris’s flesh as his shirt was pushed all the way up his chest, Leon bunching the fabric up beneath his armpits, the blond man towering over him and dragging blunt nails harmlessly down the line of muscles. “You’re like an instrument,” Leon murmured as the pads of his fingers touched Chris in a way that had his hair standing on end. Leon tugged Chris’s head back even rougher and Chris’s cock throbbed in his pants. “Gorgeous, delicate, capable of the most beautiful sounds when played right— and I’m the master of you.”

Leon bent low, sealing his lips around one of Chris’s nipples and delicately taking the nub of flesh between his teeth, tugging. Chris’s hips jerked up into Leon’s body without control, that same electricity coursing through him. Skilled fingers went to the other nipple, twisting gently, flicking the sensitive skin and bringing it to a pebble that Leon dug his thumbnail into. Chris whimpered and then immediately bit his lower lip, embarrassed by the wanton sound. Leon pulled off his nipple with a smack, the skin glistening with spit, red and aching, and Chris wished he’d keep going. Leon laughed softly and Chris looked to him. “Look at you,” Leon murmured as he kept rolling the right nipple between his fingers, Chris breathing harshly through his nose to keep the moans down. “Barely even touched you, and you’re already like this.”

“Shut up,” Chris wheezed. He stared down his own body, bewildered by the way he was putty in Leon’s hands. “How are you— th-that’s not normal.” Guys didn’t like getting played with like this, they didn’t like these teasing touches Fondling someone’s chest was what women enjoyed. His cheeks burned with shame as Leon pinched the nub between his fingers and Chris squeezed his eyes shut, his cock twitching between his legs, against Leon. “I— I shouldn’t like this.”

Leon hummed something soft and soothing, then released the tortured flesh, that talented hand moving back to Chris’s body and—

“Oh jesus,” Chris hissed as Leon palmed Chris’s hard cock through his pants, the palm digging in at the base and the fingers rolling in time across the shaft. Leon spread his fingers into a V, Chris’s bulge even more obvious when it rose from between the pale digits, the sight alone obscene and making his heart race. Chris looked up into the blue eyes and pleaded for explanation, wanting to understand why his body was like this. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“Chris,” Leon murmured, sounding like he was hurting a little for what Chris was saying. “There’s nothing wrong with you. Nothing wrong with what you like.” Leon bent low again, this time trailing his lips down the line between Chris’s firm pectorals, Leon mouthing and leaving a shining trail down his skin. “You work so hard looking out for others, for your men, always— but when it’s you and me, you let me look out for you.” Leon pressed a kiss to the top of Chris’s abdomen as his hand snuck beneath the hem of Chris’s pants and wrapped around his cock. 

Chris threw his head back with a ragged moan and arched into the touch as Leon stroked him quickly, confined by the clothes but working well within the constraints. Chris canted up into the grip, gasping into the cold air of the Jeep. Leon twisted his grip and Chis lower half lurched off the seat, nearly bucking Leon off of him, who laughed softly and sunk his teeth into Chris’s nipple again. Chris cried out at the mix of pain and pleasure as Leon continued to jack him off at a brutal pace. Humiliating little noises tore themselves from Chris’s wet lips, his limbs starting to shake as his legs pressed him up and into that palm, fucking into Leon’s hand. His expression contorted as he got closer and closer, struggling to keep breathing. From below, Leon was watching him with the dagger blue eyes, reading him like an open book, playing him exactly like that instrument. Then Leon pressed an open-mouth kiss to Chris’s chest, just above his heart, stared into him and said, “Let go for me, baby” and Chris—

Chris came suddenly, a shout tearing his throat as he spilled in his pants like he was a teenager again. His jaw went slacked and he moaned uselessly into the small space between them, the pleasure washing through him like warm waves. Chris went limp across the leather bench, trembling with the aftershocks. Hands yanked down his pants, tugging them off of one leg entirely, struggling with getting the leg over the boots, and then Chris was cold all over, exposed to the night air with a pant leg hanging off his leg, until Leon was bending over him again, covering Chris in with warmth.

That strong grip released his cock to take him by the bare thigh, lifting Chris’s leg high up and into the air, laying it over Leon’s shoulder. Chris groaned softly and blearily opened his eyes just in time to see Leon’s right hand, now gloveless, disappear between his legs, hidden by Chris’s cock laying against his stomach. Chris’s brow furrowed until the sensation of something cold pressed into a part of himself he’d never touched— or let be touched in his six months of memory— wiped all cognitive thought from his head. Leon hushed him gently as Chris struggled to process the foreign touch even as the—

Chris arched his spine as a finger pressed inside, his body instinctively relaxing around the intrusive digit. Leon’s free hand ran up and down Chris’s leg, the stretched muscles relishing the gentle care as Leon worked the single digit in and out of Chris slowly, watching his face. “Tell me to stop,” Leon whispered between them, and Chris realized he was watching Chris so closely for signs of pain. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

Even as the pleasure began to curl low in his stomach again, Chris couldn’t help but find this horribly demeaning— getting bent and fucked— and _enjoying_ it. The idea of being dominated like this by someone who made him feel safe, even if he couldn’t remember how or why. The submission, the loss of control, it felt _good._ Chris whimpered and rolled his hips down, testing the sensation and finding a sick part of himself loving it. “You said you know me,” he gasped, challenging Leon. “Shouldn’t you know better for me?”

“Your body is Chris Redfield,” Leon said. “But right now, you’re Chris— I don’t want you forcing yourself into something just because you think I know shit that you don’t.”

The level of concern Leon had for him, how thorough and careful he was being— the fact that Chris could feel a hard cock pressed against the bottom of his thigh— Leon was wanting something from this too, but he wasn’t taking, wasn’t making this about himself. Chris had a feeling Leon really was the one to always look out for Chris when Chris was too busy looking out for everyone else. And the extent of Leon’s control, how obviously Leon wanted to get something out of this but denying himself for Chris’s safety and benefit— it made Chris want to give himself to Leon. 

He shuddered and carefully rolled down onto that finger, feeling it press deeper and choking on a noise. “Keep going,” he told the man. “I-I trust you.”

Leon raised a brow like he didn’t believe him. Somehow, Chris managed a shaky smile. “I think I do,” he insisted. “Part of me— even back in China. You said you knew I’d do the right thing and I-I trusted you to be right. I trusted you.” He wet his lips and clenched experimentally around the finger, lashes fluttering shut. “I trusted others, yeah, but— o-only you like that. Didn’t need to convince myself. Not for you.”

His lips were stolen for a passionate kiss as Leon pushed a second finger inside of him and spread them apart. Chris whined needfully into his mouth, trying to understand why his body was reacting so positively to something that should be nothing but strange and painful. He’d done this before, even if he couldn’t remember, he knew that for a fact. Leon began to slide those two fingers in and out, fucking Chris slowly, dragging across the tight, inner walls, pressing—

Chris bowed off the leather with a curse as Leon grazed something inside of him that had lights flashing behind his eyes like he was dying. He dropped back down with a punch of air leaving him, eyes rolling back into his head when Leon touched the spot again and worked in a third finger, met with no resistance as Chris’s body succumbed to the pleasure. Leon smiled down at Chris as Chris fell apart to the new sensations, breathless noises leaving him with each jab of the fingers. Leon kept stroking his insides, smearing lube deep within, preparing him for—

That hard cock pressed against the swell of Chris’s ass and he’d never wanted something so badly in his life as he wanted that cock inside of him. Leon’s fingers fucked deeper and bruised that spot. His hips flew off the seat and he cried out. “Please!” he begged, looking up at Leon in desperation. “Please, please, more.” He knew what he was begging for but couldn’t say it, the same part of himself that had been ashamed at enjoying the touches of his chest insisting he wasn’t supposed to like this. But Leon knew him better than anyone— he couldn’t be wrong. “Please,” he whimpered. “Give it to me.”

Leon groaned softly, the first sign of a loss of composure, and pulled his fingers from Chris’s body. The loss had Chris whining pitifully, but quickly cutting himself off as he watched Leon undo his fly and pull his own hard on from the confines of his slacks, the cock a gorgeous, yet painful looking red, the tip glistening with arousal leaking from the slit, the shaft long and perfect, throbbing in Leon’s hand. Chris spread his legs wider on instinct, then wrapped the one that wasn’t hooked over Leon’s shoulder around Leon’s waist, holding him close with brute strength. “Get that inside of me,” Chris growled, his mouth watering. “Does Chris Redfield like sucking cock?”

Leon moaned raggedly. “Chris Redfield loves _choking_ on cock.”

“Oh fuck,” Chris choked out.

Leon grinned. “My thoughts exactly.” The man grabbed the lube and squirted a healthy amount onto his angry-red cock, Leon letting out a soft hiss at the cold, but spreading it liberally across himself with clinical drags of his hand. Chris was entranced by the sight of the cockhead revealing itself with each downward stroke. His body shook with need and he looked up at Leon again, begging with his eyes. “Don’t give me that face,” Leon said, voice strained with the pleasure of his own touch. “I’m gonna guess you haven’t been fucked since the last time I had you. Need to be careful.”

“Fuck careful,” Chris spat as Leon tossed the lube into the front seat and bent over him, bending Chris in half. The strain in the tendons of his legs felt _good_ , his body stretched wider, pulled open, ready for Leon’s cock. He wanted it so badly it hurt and Chris was preparing himself to beg again when he noticed Leon was holding his cock and maneuvering Chris to place the head against him, blunt and wet. “Oh god yes,” Chris babbled, reaching up to brace his hands on the door against his head. “Leon, yes, please.”

“Keep begging like that and I won’t last more than a second,” Leon breathed above him. “Hold on tight, Chris.” Leon slowly fed his cock into Chris’s body and Chris finally— finally— felt like his body was his own. He didn’t know how or why or what it meant, but as Leon’s cock pressed deeper and deeper into Chris’s body, opening him up and taking him, making Chris accept the intrusion and giving Chris the ultimate euphoria, it was like his skeleton was sliding back into place amongst the blood and organs. Chris’s mouth fell open in soundless wonder as he was split open on Leon’s cock, his own erection throbbing painfully. As Leon bottomed out inside of him, one arm bracing him above Chris with a hand against the steam-coated window, Leon looked down at him with love and Chris prayed he remembered who he was soon so he could remember who Leon was too.

“Fuck me,” Chris blurted out, his entire body shaking. “Please.”

Leon drew his hips back and slammed into Chris, jostling him up the bench, fucking another humiliating noise out of him that he couldn’t even be ashamed of in face of the ecstasy wracking his body. Leon set a bruising pace, fucking Chris like he wanted to break the door behind Chris’s head. The car rocked with the force of the thrusts and Chris could barely withstand it. His cock was pinned between their bodies, Leon’s rough movement acting as delicious friction, the way made slick by Chris’s cum from his first orgasm. He dropped his head back against the leather and moaned brokenly, the long sound jilted and cut off over and over by each powerful thrust. 

Leon arched over him and kissed Chris, swallowing the wanton moan and shoving his tongue inside Chris’s mouth. He couldn’t meet the kiss, couldn’t give as well as Leon was because his mind was a useless mess of pleasure and fog, something breaking through and enveloping Chris in comfort and safety, memories of a man driving into him and protecting Chris with his life, remnants of trust and home and camaraderie, echoes of being in love and knowing he was loved back. He whimpered Leon’s name into the other man and felt Leon shudder at the sound, a hand snaking between their bodies to take Chris’s cock and pump him in time with the thrusts. Chris cried out against Leon and then sobbed brokenly, squeezing his eyes shut as they blurred damningly with pinpricks of tears. Leon didn’t stop, though, didn’t pass judgement for the emotions overwhelming Chris’s psyche. Instead, he kissed Chris harder and ground his cock into Chris with each thrust, bruising that spot inside of him that had stars exploding behind Chris’s eyelids.

“Close,” Chris confessed, the word dragging over Leon’s lips. “Leon, baby, think I’m gonna cum.” Leon groaned and stroked his cock faster, pressing his thumb into the slit to gather precum and slick it down Chris’s shaft. “Oh fuck,” Chris whimpered, forcing his eyes open to look up into the endless depth of blue above him, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Remember— I can remember— _you._ ” He remembered Leon towering above him and instilling Chris with such a feeling of safety and familiarity that it had brought tears to his eyes just as it was now. “Leon.” Chris was trembling like he was dying, lifting himself higher, getting Leon’s cock deeper as he used his purchase on Leon’s hips and shoulders to get an angle that was all instinct and beyond perfect. “Leon,” he breathed again, reverent and pious. He wet his lips as the pleasure surged higher and higher, and said, without a shadow of a doubt, “I know I missed you.”

Leon suddenly curled in on himself and Chris felt more than heard the blond man cum, his insides coated with the warmth of Leon’s release. He moaned in satisfaction, the moan then turning into a sob as Leon kept pumping his cock. The sensation of Leon filling him and the insistent, overwhelming strokes sent Chris into heaven, his vision whiting out as he sobbed, cumming again between their chests. The second orgasm left him shaking and spent, dropping back onto the seat and laying uselessly on his back, his muscles slowly relaxing and twitching through the endless waves of lingering pleasure. 

Then Leon was releasing his emptied cock and sitting up, running a messy hand through his blond hair and smiling breathlessly down at Chris, bright like the sun. Chris blinked slowly and asked, “Are we boyfriends?” 

Leon’s expression shuttered slightly and he winced. The man didn’t respond at first, choosing instead to work his left hand glove off, letting the leather drop to Chris’s stomach. Chris stared at the silver ring he saw on Leon’s ring finger, piecing it together with what he already knew.

“Husbands, actually,” Leon said, letting his bangs fall in front of his eyes like he was scared of Chris’s reaction. “We’ve been married for about three years, now.” He smiled sadly. “Our anniversary was four months ago.” 

The statement that Chris had been absent and lost in Edonia went unsaid. Even in the face of Chris’s shock and pain for how much Leon must have ached for his absence, all he could say was, “I-I never had a ring.”

“You…”

As Leon trailed off, Chris tore his eyes from the ring to look Leon in the eye. There was agony within those blue pools and Chris wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer now. “You left it with Piers,” Leon finally said. “Whenever you were on an op, you entrusted Piers to keep the ring safe for you. So he could give it to me if you never made it back.”

Chris’s mouth went dry again, and this time it wasn’t welcome. “He never said anything. Never gave it to me.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Leon murmured. “I’m sure he took one look at the macho exterior you were giving in that bar and knew you wouldn’t take well to finding out you were with a man, let alone married to one. He was trying to protect you.” Leon smiled sadly with his eyes glinting with unshed tears. “He was always protecting you.”

Chris swallowed thickly. He didn’t want to, but, “I-I can get another ring.”

Leon, though, shook his head, and Chris was relieved. “Let Piers rest with it,” Leon murmured, his voice breaking. “Let him rest knowing he did his best until the end. He was there for the wedding, Chris, he was your best man, he helped you write your vows. He took me aside that night after you and I were officiated and promised me that he’d always ensure you came home to me.” Leon took Chris’s left hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing where a ring should have been, not even a tan line visible. “He’s a good soldier,” Leon whispered into his skin. “He’s family. He’s gone. Let him rest with the ring. We won’t replace the ring because we can’t replace him. He deserves the peace.”

Chris blinked away more tears and nodded, knowing Leon was right. “I’m tired,” he confessed. “I don’t— remember a lot. Didn’t even know I had a sister. All I knew was Piers, and now he’s dead.”

Leon nodded and kissed his ring finger again. “Let me take you home,” he said.

Chris forced down a sob. “I don’t know where that is.” He’d gone to the bar and not his home for a reason.

“I do,” Leon told him gently. “It’s with me.”

Chris shut his eyes and let his head fall back, ignoring the pain in his heart, trading it for the love he knew was there for Leon, buried deep down but never completely gone. “You were the only person I would listen to,” he said. “You were the only person who could get through to me.” He smiled sardonically. “Funny— I’m some kind of fucking idiot for not figuring it out until now.” He looked up at Leon and could swear he remembered standing across from this man in a church, another man beside them in a suit declaring them lawfully wed. He could swear he remembered the way Leon had laughed, so full of joy and wonder, and thrown his arms around Leon’s neck to kiss him. He could swear he remembered never wanting anything more. 

He could swear he remembered turning to Piers and seeing the young man watching them with so much happiness that it split Chris’s chest in half and told him that he’d never _need_ anything more so long as he had his family. “I miss him,” Chris confessed. “Take me home.”

Leon nodded and kissed his knuckles before pulling carefully out of Chris’s body and tucking his cock away, climbing into the front seat and pushing the keys into the ignition. “Just close your eyes, let yourself rest,” he told Chris as Chris fumbled to get into a semblance of dressed again, the thrill of feeling Leon’s cum inside of him ebbing the pain of losing Piers’s and helping him focus beyond on the fact that he wasn’t going to be alone. “We’ll be home before you know it.”

_I’ll be home  
Just any old time  
The grave in the garden won’t be satisfied  
Till your name’s next to mine_

**Author's Note:**

> [srsly go check this out it's fucking choice meats at the market today bois](https://twitter.com/nsfwprrtnrr/status/1152633172498276352)


End file.
